Moving On
by morning sunlight
Summary: This is a sequel to the story There's a Way Through to the Other Side which is set postDevil's Trap with Sam and Dean on a rocky road to recovery.
1. Settling in

_**Moving on**_

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_**Disclaimer**: Supernatural doesn't belong to me, nor do Dean, Sam, or the other characters you recognise. I am making no money so please don't come looking for me._

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_

_**Warning**: some violence as the story progresses _

_**Spoilers** - post-end of Series 1 Devil's Trap so some passing mention of events in Season episodes such as Faith, Home, Devil's Trap etc._

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_

_**Author's Note:** Depending which episode I have watched most recently, my feelings about John Winchester vary. If you are a fan of JW - don't read and flame - this story for reasons best known to itself was not kind to him - if that is going to upset you, please don't read on. This story continues the events in the story "There's a Way Through to the Other Side"_

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**_Chapter 1 - Settling in_**

They're a handful these boys, 23 and 27 and in different circumstances old enough to know better. I sometimes wonder what I've let myself in for, bringing them here.

Right now, you don't see how strong they really are. The best and worst way to find out is to threaten one and watch the other react. I've always known it of Dean, from the first time I met them. He was barely seven and so fiercely protective of his brother. Sam, at the time, was happily oblivious to it all and in some respects that continued until these last few months. Sam began to fight back out of his unhappy lot when he reached his teen years. He never realised that he could do that because of the protection of his brother. I wonder sometimes what Sam would have been like without Dean's protection or even what he would have been like had he realised it was there.

I don't know everything these boys have seen and experienced as children and since. They rarely share any information on the subject. Sam, always the more vocal of the two, is adamant now that he will only talk about the good things in front of Dean, rebuilding his brother's strength. Talk he does, on and on when his brother, too tired to move, can barely keep his eyes open. He talks until Dean, exhausted, whispers, "Enough, Sam. It's fine, enough." Sam falls silent, but he doesn't leave immediately, just watches Dean sleep for a while.

So broken, I know Sam sees it now, just how broken his brother really is. I watch him and see him wonder how he missed it for so long. How did Dean hold on for so long? What held him together?

I don't know how to help them. I've offered shelter and food. These boys are so self-reliant; they find it difficult to accept even that, though Sam is more willing than Dean. Dean is finding this so hard and I don't know how to put his mind at rest, that I expect nothing in return. This is my apology for not acting when they were children and Jim, Caleb and I first saw what was happening. We talked about it, talked about taking them in, finding them somewhere safe but John was a strong man and Missouri had faith in him to do the right thing. We were all wrong. We share the blame but not equally. For the shell of a boy in front of me, I lay the blame at his father's door.

He stands there, determined to finish the meal he is preparing despite exhaustion. Dean, each day, sets himself a number of tasks he must complete. It is his way of paying for what I have offered freely. He asks daily if it's okay for them to stay another day, the rest of the week, a little longer. Each day, I see him hoping he will be stronger, better, be himself. Each day, I watch him head to bed, disappointed by his weakness, by his need to rely on others. Each day, he sees how he has failed, while Sam and I see how much he has achieved. Sam and I look for the merest whisper that Dean is coming back and we find it every time we look at him. We see it when he is awake longer, he smiled unforced, he answered back, he made a decision alone, he was left alone for longer. Dean sees only the failure of what he hasn't done and didn't manage.

I wonder if that is too much a part of him for him to be able to let it go. If this is the Dean we've always known, just without the covering act in place. Stronger he is. I can see it in the growing arguments with Sam.

Sam sees life in black and white, right and wrong, Dean and John. Dean wins hands down in Sam's eyes.

Dean sees life in shades of grey. He sees not what's right or wrong but how close he can get to keeping everyone else happy and safe.

Black and white is surprisingly easier to deal with because Sam's happy enough with it. The problem is with Dean's particular shades of grey. Dean aims for black and white and grey is never close enough to either for him to succeed, so Dean always fails.

Over the weeks, Dean's strength has gradually returned and although he is not yet himself, he is much improved. Each morning, he is up with Sam, watching as he leaves for work, having checked and re-checked numerous times what time Sam will be back, but each day he lets him go without a murmur of complaint or coercion to stay. Each day, I watch him wait, clockwatching, from somewhere as the time approaches for Sam's return. As he is never in the same place twice, I wonder if either of them have realised what he's doing.

He is driven. The more he recovers the more his maturity shows. The impression he has given for years of being carefree, off-hand and a joker are masks. In reality, he is deeply sensitive and caring, aware of how bad the world can really be and of his own need to protect others from that.

I watch as Dean fights to balance the knowledge that his brother has grown now with the desire to protect Sam at all costs as he has done since they were children.

John's name is barely mentioned after some early arguments. Sam is resolute that he will not discuss his father. Dean tried at first to portray some of John's actions in a favourable light but has never once suggested any kind of contact and now does not mention him at all.

Dean's walls of self-protection are going back up but it is a slow process and they are shaky and tenuous, lacking the underlying foundation they had before. Now it is Sam who damages them easiest and most. His actions are thoughtless and the damage unintentional. Sam is used to Dean acting strong so he forgets how precarious the shield now is. They fight and Sam doesn't always remember to hold back


	2. Fighting Back

_**Moving On**_

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**_

_**Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me, nor do Dean, Sam, or the other characters you recognise. I am making no money so please don't come looking for me.**_

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**_

_**Warning: some violence as the story progresses **_

_**Spoilers - post-end of Series 1 Devil's Trap so some passing mention of events in Season episodes such as Faith, Home, Devil's Trap etc.**_

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**_

**_Author's Note:_** **Depending which episode I have watched most recently, my feelings about John Winchester vary. If you are a fan of JW - don't read and flame - this story for reasons best known to itself was not kind to him - if that is going to upset you, please don't read on.**

**_Author's Note (2):_ Thanks as ever to Rae Artemis for betaing in the face of adversity no matter how strange and piecemeal the story arrives at your inbox!**

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_**Chapter Two - Fighting Back**_

The boys fought earlier. I got a taste of what it may have been like when Sam was a teenager fighting with John. I know Dean started the actual argument but it was Sam who had backed him into a corner. Sam forced him into a conversation with Missouri, a conversation he wasn't prepared for. It brought to the surface his insecurities and vulnerability. Along with it, it brought anger.

Dean accused Sam of interfering, poking his nose where it wasn't wanted, meddling like an old crone with nothing better to do and conspiring with Missouri, the old witch.

The thing is even when Dean was loud and outspoken before all this, he always retained some sense of propriety and he wouldn't have called Missouri a witch within her hearing. Sam leapt in at that. How simple it would have been for him to apologise and defuse the situation but not Sam.

Having decided that Dean should speak to Missouri, he leapt in unthinking, said things he shouldn't, misguided, badly phrased. He managed to call Dean a selfish son-of-a-bitch, unheeding of the help people were offering. Sam accused him of wallowing in self-pity, unable to face up to the truth, not strong enough to face what his life really was.

It isn't that there aren't grains of truth in some of what Sam says, but after a lifetime of pain and suffering, Dean is entitled to some selfishness and a refusal to deal with things immediately. Dean needs time but Sam is impatient. He wants the brother he has always known back.

The accusations flew back and forth until Dean faltered, stopped and looked wide-eyed at his brother. I saw the fear lurking from my position in one doorway. Sam either didn't look or didn't see for he continued unabated. It was the final comments that pushed Dean over the edge. "I don't want to be around your selfish self-pity, Dean. I'll leave you to it. I can get myself a life. It's time you did. You're too old to need a babysitter." With that Sam left.

I understood what he was doing; he was trying to push Dean into being himself again. He headed for the car and without making eye-contact left. Dean followed to the steps where he held on. "Sam, please!" He paused, waiting for any reaction from his brother. "Sam. Don't go!" I was by his side as Sam left, I slowed his fall as he crumpled to the floor but I knew he wasn't hearing my words, couldn't feel my hands on his shoulder and back. The only thing he knew was what Sam had said, 'I can get myself a life. It's time you did."

Sam has unwittingly played into Dean's greatest fear, reinforced the demon's words, "They don't need you, not like you need them." The car is barely out of sight when Dean rushes for the bathroom. We spend the next hour there. I barely leave his side as he changes from vomiting to retching when nothing remains. Throughout he mutters to Sam, pleas to return and to forgive him. The fear and panic from the hospital is back and he can't control it. After an hour, he is exhausted and slumped against the side of the bath, defeated. I have sat here with him, passing him water to sip, trying to reassure him that Sam hasn't really gone, trying to give him the strength to fight the panic. He has given in now but I think he is resigned to Sam's absence rather than his ability to cope.

I watch as he pulls himself together enough to get himself to bed. Then I return to the kitchen to await Sam's appearance. I feel my frustration growing at him. Where is his understanding? His concern for his brother? I wonder how he can be so unaware of Dean's fragile state of mind.

Finally I heard the car pull up and Sam get out. I had heard no more from Dean in the last half an hour or more. I assumed he was sleeping but I hadn't been into check as I didn't want to risk disturbing him once he was calmer.


	3. Recriminations

_**Moving on**_

* * *

**_Disclaimer_**: Supernatural doesn't belong to me, nor do Dean, Sam, or the other characters you recognise. I am making no money so please don't come looking for me.

* * *

**_Warning_**: some violence as the story progresses 

**_Spoilers_** - post-end of Series 1 Devil's Trap so some passing mention of events in Season episodes such as Faith, Home, Devil's Trap etc.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Depending which episode I have watched most recently, my feelings about John Winchester vary. If you are a fan of JW - don't read and flame - this story for reasons best known to itself was not kind to him - if that is going to upset you, please don't read on._

_**Author's Note (2):** I would imagine this story to be AU - JW is, I hope for all of our sakes, OOC and from that the boys reactions should also be somewhat so. Having said that, I would hope that in the light of something bad, the boys would stick together and offer what support they can to each other._

_**Author's Note (3): **Remember Rae Artemis for her beta skills - you never know what you might get otherwise._

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_**Chapter 3 - Recriminations**_

_"Evening Bobby." I looked at Sam in disbelief. "I'm sorry about the noise earlier. You know what Dean's like when he goes off on one."_

_I really couldn't believe what he was saying and my frustration with him spilt over. "You really have no idea, do you? Have you looked at your brother lately? Listened to him? Do you pay any attention to what goes on around you at all, Sam? You are selfish beyond belief."_

_"Look Bobby. Like I said, I'm sorry we set to, but you know, Dean started that argument, I finished it, I walked away."_

_"Yes, Dean and I noticed you walked away."_

_"What's that supposed to mean? Has he been complaining about me?"_

_"Sam you might have just accused your brother of being a selfish son-of-a-bitch but in my opinion that is a description that fits you better right now."_

_He looks horrified. "What do you mean?"_

_"Did you hear what he said to you as you left?"_

_He nodded. "He said don't go."_

_"But you did."_

_"There was no point continuing the argument."_

_"No, I agree there wasn't."_

_He seemed baffled. "So? What's the problem?"_

_"You left him."_

_"No point arguing, we just said that."_

_"You couldn't have stayed and not argued?"_

_'No point. He wasn't listening."_

_I try to rein my temper in. "Dean? Not listening? That's where you're wrong, Sam. He was listening to everything you said to him. The one not listening was you. The one being selfish was you. The one who said to Dean he had to be better now or his time was up was you. The only things he asked were that you listen, you don't force him to do things he's not ready for and that you don't walk away. You did them all, Sam. Does the phrase 'They don't need you, not the way that you need them'__sound familiar to you at all?"_

_"The demon said it to Dean, that night in the cabin. It's one of the things that upset him so much in the hospital."_

_My turn to nod at him now. "Uh-huh. And what about 'I can get myself a life. It's time you did. You're too old to need a babysitter.' What about that? Do you recognise that at all?"_

_He looked confused. "No, should I?"_

_"That's what you said to him right before you left."_

_"Fuck!" His eyes closed. "It's kind of like what the demon said. I didn't mean it. I was just pissed at him."_

_"Not kind of! In your brother's eyes you may as well have used the demon's words, even worse, you got in your car and you drove away! You ignored him when he asked you to stay. You said you stopped arguing: You didn't. He did! He backed down first. I could see how upset he was and you just carried on pushing further and then you left him. We've spent an hour in the bathroom, while you've been gone. An hour fighting the panic like he did in the hospital and an hour vomiting and retching again. He doesn't need this Sam. You've got to take responsibility for your actions, not just leave it to him. You need to grow up and stop relying on him to be the better man because he's got more than enough on his hands right now. You've got to stop making demands of him and just accept him for who he is and what he can do and be right now. He isn't ready to be the Dean you've known your whole life yet, or at least, not all the time. Sam, you can do better by him. I expect you to do better if you want to stay here."_

_He looked horrified, mind you, I felt the same by what I had just threatened him with. "What do you mean?"_

_"Right now, what do I mean? I mean your brother is going to be my priority now. I will not allow you to behave like your father in my house, but most of all I will not allow it in front of him. If I have to throw you out to protect him I will. This time someone is going to put Dean first and look out for him and that hasn't happened since your mother died."_

_"I am sorry, Bobby. I didn't think of it like that. I just want him to pull himself together. He seems to make progress and then fall back again. I just thought he should be... I don't know... I mean there was no call for him to be so rude to Missouri."_

_"Really? You tell me what he was feeling about your suggestion. In fact tell me how he is feeling about his day in general."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Imagine you were him. What has today been like? Do you even know what he's done today?"_

_Sam's reply sounded defensive. "I dunno, I guess he hung 'round the house, cleaned the kitchen. Did he cook? I dunno, did he come over and spend some time with you?"_

_"Did you ask him?"_

_"No. I normally find out when we eat and we didn't get that far tonight. I guess I came in and told him I needed to talk to Missouri and then everything blew up from there. __So you tell me, what has he done?" Sam makes the solution sound so simple._

_"You see, Sam, that is part of the problem, isn't it? I tell you, I ask him in front of you so that you find out. You should be asking him these things. Did you know on top of all his usual stuff round the house, he went for a run today?"_

_"Well, I don't see the problem with that. It's good isn't it?"_

_"Yeah, overall, I suppose it is, but not without some reservations. He's pushing himself, Sam. As much as he can, he's trying. It's something he chose to do, something he did alone; he did all the usual stuff round the house, helped me for an hour, then asked if I needed him. Do you see the change there? He didn't ask me if he could do something, he checked if I was alright because he had something else he wanted to do. It didn't matter what because he wasn't asking if it was the right thing, wasn't asking me to go with him or for my approval."_

_"Well that's good."_

_"Yeah."_

_"How long did he run for?"_

_"Not quite an hour. Well that's how long he was gone. He certainly got back tired enough but I think he'd pushed himself even more in terms of how long he'd been away but I don't know whether that was deliberate or whether it was that he got tired and it took him longer to get back. He's got a lot to recover from physically and I'm not sure the doctors would approve of him running yet but..."_

_"You think I was wrong to have tried to make him talk to Missouri today."_

_"Yes, I think it's wrong to make him talk to Missouri unless it's what he wants to do."_

_"Why? She can help. She can tell me what's going on inside his mind. She can tell me what to do." For someone so intelligent, Sam has always favoured the simplest of solutions to the problems in his life._

_"There's no other way to do that."_

_"No."_

_"Wasted college education." I turned away, disappointed in his inability to see._

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"Why not ask him? You ever think of trying that?"_

_"We've never been that good at talking about stuff."_

_"You were doing it when he was in hospital."_

_"It's not that easy." It still amazed me how petulant Sam is capable of sounding at twenty-four. Some things haven't changed since he was six._

_"It's not supposed to be easy, but you're supposed to be willing to try. You're not supposed to resort to cheap tricks and quick fixes. Dean deserves better that that."_

_"Maybe."_

_"You owe it to both of you to at least try, Sammy."_

_"Maybe I should go through to see him now. Try and apologise."_

_"Take him something to eat."_

_"What did he make?"_

_"It's in the oven, but he'll probably be better off with something plain."_

_"Yeah, I'll make him a sandwich."_


	4. Touching the tip of the iceberg

**_Moving On_**

**_Disclaimer_**: Supernatural doesn't belong to me, nor does Dean, Sam, or the other characters you recognise. I am making no money so please don't come looking for me.

**_Warning_**: some violence as the story progresses

**_Spoilers_** - post-end of Series 1 Devil's Trap so some passing mention of events in Season episodes such as Faith, Home, Devil's Trap etc.

_**Author's Note:** Depending which episode I have watched most recently, my feelings about John Winchester vary. If you are a fan of JW - don't read and flame - this story for reasons best known to itself was not kind to him - if that is going to upset you, please don't read on._

**Author's Note (2):** _Thanks Rae for your continued support_.

_**Chapter 4 – Touching The Tip Of The Iceberg**_

_I wait. Sam has been in Dean's room for ten minutes. There are no raised voices or things being thrown, so I suppose that is a good sign._

_After another 5 minutes, Sam returns, the plate of sandwiches untouched. "Dean not up to it?"_

_"He was asleep. I didn't wake him. I just watched."_

_"Probably wise." I give him a plate of the food Dean made earlier._

_"You know, I don't think we've ever really not shared a room other than when I left. I suppose he shared with Dad then."_

_"Part of the time." It crossed my mind that Sam must have spent the whole fifteen minutes in Dean's room coming up with this way to start the conversation._

_"What happened while I was gone, Bobby?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"He's changed."_

_"Not so much. It just needs practice being together again. You've both grown up a bit."_

_"It's harder than it was when we were kids."_

_"Why?"_

_"He's not so... I dunno... open... easy to understand. I just feel like sometimes there's a world of difference between us. Too many things we don't understand or know about each other."_

_"Don't know maybe. You know, with a little time and effort you'd understand one another a whole lot better."_

_"I suppose. Probably need some apologies first. I'm sorry, Bobby."_

_"What're you apologising to me for?"_

_"The two of shouting the odds in your house. My having made him so upset he was ill and then leaving you to deal with it. The conversation we've just had, the fact we're imposing on your hospitality. Anything else you can think of really." He smiled wryly._

_"I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I was so harsh. And I guess I don't really intend throwing you out."_

_His smile grew bigger. "That's kind of a relief, but you know what, I'm kind of hoping you meant it: the part about putting Dean first just now._

_"Why do you say that?"_

_"You know I get these dreams?"_

_"Hmmm."_

_"Well, since Dad left, when Dean and I were still in the hospital, I've been having these particular dreams. Things I don't actually remember, but things that happened to Dean and I when we were kids, I think. At first, it took me ages to realise it was us in the dream."_

_"What sort of things?"_

_"There's this one where Dean is rocking me in his arms and I'm asleep but he's kind of crying but he's saying things as if to calm me down. He can only be about six and I'm barely past being a baby."_

_"You won't remember this. I don't know if even Dean does to be honest but I know that Caleb and I each found you and Dean alone in motel rooms without your Dad when he was off hunting."_

_"I don't remember Dean ever saying anything."_

_"Even then he wouldn't talk about it. The time I found you, I knew John was late meeting me. We had our first big argument that time because the two of you had been alone for at least two and a half days before I got into you. I didn't know you were there, otherwise I'd have come straight to you when I arrived, but I assumed you were with your Dad. I'd been at the hotel for a day and a half when your Dad phoned and got put through to my room to say he was going to be late and could I check Dean still had enough food for you. I was furious with him. I came down to your room and tried for an hour and a half to talk Dean into letting me in. Your Dad had convinced him that if anyone found out you were alone, they would take you away and that would be Dean's fault._

_"In my dream, he's crying and saying 'Don't worry baby, he'll be back.'"_

_"I made the mistake of trying to get him to open the door first. I tried to coerce him, promised him all sorts if he would just let me in but he wouldn't. Eventually, I picked the lock. You were fine, as clean as toddlers ever are, fed, sleeping. Everything was as it should be for a child your age. Not so for your brother though. You two would have been taken into care if a social services type had found him. Dean didn't look like he'd slept since your Dad had left, he'd barely eaten anything. When I finally got him to say something about that, I put the pieces together that it wasn't the first time your Dad had gone and not returned, so things that you could eat were put to one side and he ate just enough to survive."_

_"You said Caleb found us as well?"_

_"Yeah, I told Jim what had happened, so I know he would have told Caleb and probably some of the others too, to look out for the two of you. The first hint Caleb had that the two of you weren't with John and he went straight to your motel room. He didn't knock, he went straight for the lock and got in, didn't waste time trying to talk Dean into opening the door. It was a good job he got there when he did. Dean was sick, high temperature, shivering, sore throat, the works, but you, you were fine, up on your feet and all over the place. It was all Dean could do to stay awake and watch you let alone keep you under control. Caleb took charge but just like with me, it was really difficult to reason with Dean. He was too frightened of what your Dad would say. A day later, Dean was even sicker, there was no sign of your Daddy, so Caleb tried to bundle you both in his car to take you to Jim. But that was a battle. As soon as Dean realised what was happening, he began to fight tooth and nail. I remember Caleb saying he was grateful Dean's throat was too sore for him to shout. In the end, he compromised and got Jim on the phone. Jim managed to convince Dean that it was okay for Caleb to take you both to his. He was still stubborn though, he held out until they agreed to get a car seat for you to keep you safe on the way. He was a right devil when it came to protecting you."_

_"We've argued sometimes and I've accused him of being worse than Dad."_

_"He probably was."_

_"He didn't deserve me throwing it back in his face like that."_

_"Sam, give yourself a break. When I set to earlier, it wasn't to make you feel guilty about your whole life. What happened when you were kids wasn't your fault or Dean's?"_

_"He did more than he should have had to."_

_"Yep. And you put up with more crap than you should have had to. Either one of you could have said something to Jim, to Caleb, to me, to your school teachers, but you didn't. You both protected your father more than he's ever deserved. We let him get away with things when we knew better. That was all you and Dean ever knew: we knew what it should have been like."_

_"And Missouri? Where does she fit into all of this? Why do you two argue?"_

_"That's between us and it's in the past. Not something you need to worry about. It doesn't actually matter anymore."_

_"You don't think much of Missouri's being psychic?"_

_"I didn't say that, boy."_

_"No? Well, what then?"_

_"You wouldn't use an ice-pick to take out a splinter? Thought not, but you send in a psychic to read Dean before you do him the decency of asking him what he's thinking? Before you give him the right to decide what he wants you to know? He's never confided in you before?"_

_"Not really, no."_

_"Nothing at all in the last year?"_

_"Well... yeah actually there were a couple of things. He told me..."_

_"Sam, he told you things, little by little maybe, but he told you them."_

_"I guess, it's just… it's so slow, I want to help him get better now."_

_"It will. You need to remember, he's got to get used to you being an adult. He's always had to look out for you, make sure you didn't know how bad things really were. He's always tried to protect you and as much as he can he still tries. This is your chance to prove it can go both ways now."_


	5. Nighttime Conversations

_**Moving On**_

* * *

**_Disclaimer_**: Supernatural doesn't belong to me, nor does Dean, Sam, or the other characters you recognise. I am making no money so please don't come looking for me.

* * *

**_Warning_**: some violence as the story progresses

**_Spoilers_** - post-end of Series 1 Devil's Trap so some passing mention of events in Season episodes such as Faith, Home, Devil's Trap etc.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Depending which episode I have watched most recently, my feelings about John Winchester vary. If you are a fan of JW - don't read and flame - this story for reasons best known to itself was not kind to him - if that is going to upset you, please don't read on._

**Author's Note (2):** _Thanks Rae for your continued support_.

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Chapter 5 - Night-time Conversations**_

My view of Dean was so different to Sam's. I feel as if Sam was hunting information now to compensate for his lack of understanding of his brother. If getting information from Missouri was out of the question, then he was going to get as much from me as he can before he talks to Dean.

"Why did he let me go? I wouldn't have gone if he'd have said."

"Exactly. You had to make the choice."

"I didn't mean for him to be unhappy."

"Tell him that. He knows it anyway, it's why he helped you go, why he wouldn't let your Dad stop you."

"He could have come with me. I asked him to."

"No, Sam. He couldn't, but you need to talk to him about that not me. Now if you're going to stop pushing the remains of that food around your plate, I'll clear up. You check in on your brother and then go to bed. Fresh start in the morning, make the most of it."

"Right." He puts the fork down. "I'm sorry and thanks."

"Away with you." I watched as he walked to Dean's door. He put his hand on it, then inhaled slowly. This was something he needed to do, something he needed to get right. He opened the door and went in quietly. He left the door open and I could see straight into Dean's room from where I was sitting in the kitchen. I wondered if he'd left the door open deliberately, so I would know he wasn't upsetting Dean. I knew I didn't need to watch, I trusted him to do the best he could for Dean. I never believed he intended to hurt him earlier, he just didn't recognise this Dean and hadn't figured out how to deal with him.

Dean was curled tight as close to the wall as he could get, as if he was subconsciously trying to make himself invisible. Sam sat on the vacant space and, in a movement reminiscent of the time in the hospital, he ran his hand through Dean's hair and left his hand rest there. As I watched, I saw the tension ease first from Sam's shoulders and then from Dean's body - not entirely but enough to make him seems more relaxed. Sam went to stand up and Dean stirred at the sudden removal of warmth from beside him. "Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean. It's me. You're okay, just go back to sleep."

"Sam? I'm sorry." Dean's voice was thick with sleep.

"Ssh, it's okay. I'm sorry too."

"You came back?"

"I came back. I'm sorry I made you think I wouldn't. I didn't mean for you to worry." Sam's voice was soothing as he tried not to wake Dean fully.

Dean seemed to come rapidly awake. He reached to stop Sam leaving, fear evident in his voice, the remains of his dreams energising his speech,"Sam, part of me wants you to go, but part of me is frightened what will happen to me if you do." The effects of sleep were spurring him on to be more honest than he would normally be.

"What do you think might happen, Dean, if I went?"

"Sam, don't!" He sounded hurt, despite the gentle questioning.

"It's okay, we can talk."

"No." It was barely a whisper.

"Dean, if it makes a difference I'm not leaving, not if you tell me, not if you don't. I'm here to stay."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"No, you don't and I had no right to say you did. I was being an idiot. I can only apologise but it isn't enough."

"I've been behaving like a kid. I hear myself do it, ask you the same thing over and over again, but I can't help myself, I can't stop."

"It's fine. You're getting better, getting stronger all the time. We can get through this."

"What about Missouri?"

"What about her?"

"Do we have to go see her?"

"Not unless you want to, no. From now on, we do stuff we both want to do. I'm going to listen, so if you say no, no it is."

"I just..." he went quiet again.

"Yes..." Sam encouraged.

"There's things I... you shouldn't... Sam, I trust you, you know that right? But there's things if you knew... you wouldn't look at me the same. I couldn't take that." I saw he was curled tight again, pulled away as far as he could from his brother, but I was relieved to see Sam follow him. He took advantage of the gap on the bed to swing his legs up and he leant back against the wall, his hand still resting on Dean's shoulder.

"Whatever dude. I'll listen when you ready."

"Sam! You're not listening to me!" I watched Dean pull himself up to look at his brother, eyes anguished.

"I am! You're telling me there's something about you that would make me look at you differently and I'm saying to you, I don't think there is, but I'm not going to press. You tell me what you want, when you want. I'm not going anywhere. There's something I need you to know. I want to be real sure you understand, because I can't risk my fuck ups making you sick again. Today can't happen again, Dean. I can't be the cause of another panic attack like that, because it is doing you too much damage and I can't live with that. If I walk out for any reason, I will be back. I am not leaving you. Once I've got my head clear, I will be back. There is nothing you are going to say or do that will make me leave for good. Are we clear on that? Nothing. I will come back"

"You shouldn't have to."

"Nothing to do with it. I want to. Now, are we clear?"

"You can manage without us."

"You and Bobby? No I can't. I don't want to either."

"Me and Dad."

"Dean, I've never been without you, even when I was at Stanford. You wrote, you called, you left messages that I never erased. You sent money, you even sent me cereal. You were still looking out for me. I always had you to come back to. I always knew that."

"You didn't stay in touch." It was a simple statement, but it encompassed the world of hurt and vulnerability that Dean had felt.

"I knew Dad was pissed off with me. I didn't want to drag you into it. I'm sorry."

"Doesn't matter. I just worried whether you were okay."

"What about you? What was it like? What happened after I left?"

"Nothing much." It couldn't be further from the truth, but I knew that I should leave it as Dean's story to tell, whatever my thoughts. "Dad was pissed off, you knew that. He went on a bender, got in a few scraps for a while until he calmed down."

"What about you though? What did you do?"

"I stayed sober and got into a few scraps, tried to get some money, fucked up and got Dad arrested and hung out with Bobby for a while until I could get him out."

"Dean, tell Sam the truth." I couldn't let him continue with the lies. Only he and John know the entire truth of what happened, and that's assuming John remembers. Jim and I knew parts. What I knew was enough to be certain that Dean was not the one at fault. The version the police and hospital have is complete lies but that doesn't worry me as much. "What's going to change if you tell him?"

"Mind your business, old man," he said without turning around. There was no rancour, no malice or anger. It has been a long time since there has been need of anger between us.

"You forget, boy. It is my business. He made it my business when he called me the first time."

"Talking about it doesn't change it. What good does it do Sam to know?"

"It lets him know you."

"He knows enough about me already. Some things are better left."

"I disagree."

"Fine, well, some other time, maybe. I'm tired."

"Right. I'll leave you boys to it."

"Dean?"

"Yeah. I'm tired, Sam."

"Okay. You want me to go?"

"Don't mind."

"Lie down, I'll be back soon." Sam walked out to the kitchen and grabbed his backpack, opened it and took out a book before heading back in and sitting down again next to Dean.

"Going to read to me?"

"You want me to?"

"No!"

"Fine, I'll just read to myself while you go back to sleep. Then I'll go up to bed, how's that?"

"Whatever." For all his response could have sounded sulky, it actually held a tone of relief within it. Whether it was relief that Sam wasn't leaving yet or relief that he wasn't going to push to find out what had happened in his absence, I couldn't have said.

That's what they did. Sam sat and read until Dean fell asleep again.

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	6. Realisations

_**Moving On**

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__**Disclaimer:** Supernatural doesn't belong to me, nor do Dean, Sam, or the other characters you recognise. I am making no money so please don't come looking for me._

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**_

_**Warning:** some references to past violence as the story progresses _

_**Spoilers -** post-end of Series 1 Devil's Trap so some passing mention of events in Season episodes such as Faith, Home, Devil's Trap etc._

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**Chapter 6 - Realisations**

I heard Sam in the early hours of the morning. He was up and heading downstairs. I figured I should check he was okay so I got up. By the time I got downstairs, he was sat next to Dean again but this time Dean was still asleep.

"Sam?" My voice was croaky with sleep.

"He hit him, didn't he?" I could hear the emotion in his voice.

"Sam, let him sleep. Come out here."

"It was because of me."

"It wasn't that straightforward. There was a lot more to it."

"It wasn't a one time thing, was it?"

"Like Dean said, he went on a bender. He was drunk a lot."

"How bad did it get?"

"Very."

"What will you tell me about it?"

"I took Dean in when he was ready."

He stood up to come out to me, casting sorrow-filled eyes over Dean again. "He didn't come to you straight away."

"Talk to him tomorrow. Tell him what you've dreamt. That's what this is about, isn't it, another dream?"

"Yeah."

"Sam, remember it's in the past. The worst is over. Take it slowly, you haven't even told him the dreams are about you yet, have you?"

"No, I told him he didn't need to worry about them anymore."

"You're off work tomorrow. Have you got anything planned?"

"He's got an appointment at the hospital, but apart from that, no."

"Go for a drive, a walk, take some time away, just the two of you. Just go careful with him but be honest. But now, go back to bed or you'll be too tired tomorrow."

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_**Author's Note :** Thank you to all the readers who have reviewed. Your comments and encouragement are very much appreciated as is Rae Artemis' support. Best wishes to you all._


	7. Trying to Start Again

_**Moving On**

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_

_**Disclaimer**: Supernatural doesn't belong to me, nor do Dean, Sam, or the other characters you recognise. I am making no money so please don't come looking for me._

_

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_

_**Warning**: some violence as the story progresses _

_**Spoilers** - post-end of Series 1 Devil's Trap so some passing mention of events in Season episodes such as Faith, Home, Devil's Trap etc._

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**Chapter 7 - Trying to Start Again**_

I take Bobby's advice. Take it slow, try and put Dean at his ease. We have a relaxed breakfast. I had set my alarm hoping to be the first up, but Dean was already in the bathroom, so I just head straight for the kitchen to start making breakfast.

I hear movement behind me and turn to see whether it's Bobby or Dean. My mouth engages before I have time to think through what I'm saying, "Shit Dean. You look terrible." Not quite the start to the day I had hoped for.

He shrugs one shoulder from where he is leant against the door jamb. I can see him eyeing the distance to the table. He looks too thin still, gaunt, tired, his eyes reddened with dark bags beneath them.

"You need a hand?"

"Nah. I'm fine, just a bit stiff this morning is all." With that, he proves it by walking to sit down.

"Stiff?" Bobby had told me about his run yesterday, but he's said nothing yet.

"Yeah, maybe I did a bit much yesterday."

"You hungry?"

"A bit, I guess."

"You should be, you didn't eat last night."

"No big deal. What have you done?" I wish he wouldn't play down events like last night's, it makes it too easy for me not to realise how difficult he's finding this.

"The works. You want coffee?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

"Here we go. What time do we need to be at the hospital?"

"Half nine."

"Leave here about half eight then. Anything you want to do while we're out?" I'm kind of hoping maybe he'll suggest we spend some time together.

"We could grab some groceries."

"Fine. I was thinking more enjoyable than that, but we'll do that too."

"Sam, grocery shopping may not be enjoyable, but going hungry is worse, trust me."

"True."

Dean smiles as Bobby comes in. "Well your sense of smell doesn't wear out with age does it, old man?"

Bobby taps him on the head. "Stop being so cheeky or you'll get to do the dishes on your own."

There is a familiarity between the two of them that I hadn't recognised before. It never dawned on me, when we first came here, that Dean knew where everything was in Bobby's house. When we'd first arrived from the hospital, I had received a guided tour while Dean had just flopped into the nearest chair and closed his eyes. Dean's 'old man' comments also appear to be a familiar banter between the two of them.

With breakfast over, we get ready to go. It's not long until we're on our way. I sit focusing on the road in front, pointedly avoiding looking at Dean as I try to figure out how to start any one of the conversations that I want us to have and wondering whether to do it now or wait until the hospital visit is over.

"Sam?"

"Mmmm."

"What's with the death grip on the steering wheel? Is there something the matter with the car? You should have said, we could have taken Bobby's truck. I don't think he was going anywhere today. If the steering is playing up, ask Bobby to look at it."

"Huh?"

"Your hands are hanging on to the steering wheel like it's about to spin out of control?"

I look down and see my knuckles are white. I deliberately relax my grip and flex my hands in turn, then ask him, "You any less stiff now?"

"I'm fine, Sam. You?"

"Fine. What were you doing yesterday? Or is it because of last night?

"I went out for a bit. I thought a light run would do me good, but I hadn't realised just how out of practise I would feel. It took me longer than I thought it would."

"You sure you're okay now?"

"Yeah. I know that next time, I don't go so far nor so fast. You know," he pauses, "no, it doesn't matter..."

"What were you going to say?"

"I was going to say if you wanted you could come with me sometime. I'll probably be a bit slow for a while, but I don't know. It probably wouldn't interest you. Forget I said anything."

"I'd like that."

"Yeah? You're not just saying that?" He sounds genuinely surprised.

"No, I'm not just saying it. I'm a bit out of practise myself so it would be good."

"I should probably start practising shooting as well."

"You sure?"

"I dunno. I suppose I ought to. You know in case..."

"Is your chest healed enough?" I'll deal with the injuries first, the requirement to hunt can wait. Bobby and I can make sure that Dad doesn't get to him to make him hunt for a while and as he can't drive yet, he can't go anywhere without one of us.

"It's better than it was but... it's better than it was."

"What were you going to say?"

"Nothing just that."

"Remember we agreed to be honest about injuries. We don't need to hide them."

"Yeah well, you know what Dad would say."

"Yeah I do. 'Suck it up soldier' never did work for me, Dean, and it shouldn't work for you either. You aren't a soldier. How often did you end up in hospital over the years because of his attitude?" I glance across and see an embarrassed flush to his cheeks and curse myself silently for causing it. "Dean, it doesn't matter. That's in the past. It was him not you. We can make things better, right now and we should start with the 'Suck it up soldier' line. Not something we use anymore, agreed?"

"Yeah." His agreement is quiet but at least it's there.

"So?"

"So, it's better, most of it's healed but it still aches inside, it's still cold and... shit Sam..."

"What is it?"

"You know what worries me the most, Sam. It's that I shouldn't be telling you all this crap. I shouldn't be moaning about stuff. You've enough of your own to worry about without me adding to it."

"Problems shared, Dean. I tell you, you tell me, simple." I wish it was that simple for him, for us both.

"You're holding it all together. What am I doing?"

"Okay. I was going to tell you this later. I'm having these dreams and I need to talk to you about them, but we should finish you first then talk about the dreams. So come on, what else is worrying you about it?"

He relents. "My movement is restricted across my chest and it's sore to touch, like it's still fresh."

"They checking it out today?"

"Yeah. See what they say I suppose."

"If you want, if they don't come up with anything, I could call Missouri and I could talk to her, describe it, see if she can suggest anything."

He sounds bitter when he answers, "Oh, she's really going to want to help me after what I said to her yesterday!"

"Yeah well. I'll apologise because it was my fault. I should never have tried to make you talk to her like that."

"Bobby tell you that?" he asks.

"And you. Directly and indirectly."

"You do know you don't have to listen to everything Bobby tells you about me?"

"You seem to know him pretty well, better than when we were kids."

"Like we said last night, I spent some time here when you were at Stanford. Gave the old man a hand around the place."

"What about Dad?"

"Dad? I'm surprised you want to know about him? Well, part of the time he was too drunk to care or to do anything about it if he did, part of the time he was locked up while I tried to get the money to get him out again and part of the time he was at Pastor Jim's."

"Was that just after I left?"

"Sam, there are some things I've never told you because you're better off not knowing. It's no big deal and it wasn't your doing."

"So, why not tell me? What makes you think it will make any difference to me at all?"

"You and Dad find it difficult enough to get along as it is. I don't want things to get any worse."

I find it hard to believe that he still thinks he can fix it. I pull the car off the road and turn to see his surprised expression. "Dean, listen. Dad and I are through. I don't want anything to do with him ever again. It's you and me. Pastor Jim and Caleb are gone so that leaves Bobby and anyone else we choose to add to it. But not him. Right? I'm not having anything more to do with him. Nothing can make it any worse. Nothing can make it any better." I need for him to understand this in no uncertain terms.

"Don't you ever want to try to get back what we've lost?" He sounds almost confused.

"Dean, honestly, I don't think there's anything to get back. The good memories are mostly just you and I. Some have Pastor Jim, Caleb or Bobby but the key is us."

His eyes are downcast and his fingers are worrying at a loose thread on his jeans, but he catches me by surprise when he answers. "I know what you mean. It's just... I always wanted you to have a proper family, one you could be proud of."

"I've got that. There's us, that's enough family to be proud of. Just because it doesn't look like the ones in the story books doesn't mean it isn't good enough. So, are you going to tell me what happened when I left? What is that Bobby thinks you should tell me?"

"You really want to know?"

"If you feel you can tell me, yes."

* * *


	8. Thank God It's in the Past

_**Moving On****

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_**Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me, nor do Dean, Sam, or the other characters you recognise. I am making no money so please don't come looking for me.**_

_**

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**_

_**Warning:** some references to past violence as the story progresses _

_**Spoilers -** post-end of Series 1 Devil's Trap so some passing mention of events in Season episodes such as Faith, Home, Devil's Trap etc.**

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**Chapter 8**- _**Thank God, It's in the Past**_

I'm surprised when he does start to tell me, even though as I listen I'm sure that he's playing it down.

"Not much to say. Dad got pissed, I wound him up, we fought, I left, I crashed the car. He called Bobby thinking I'd gone there. Bobby came out and found me, helped me get cleaned up and I checked into a motel. Week or so later, Dad and I repeated the process, without the car crash: I learnt that lesson the first time. Anyway we went through the whole process maybe four or five times."

"You go to a motel every time he hit you?"

"I didn't say 'he hit me', I said 'we fought'."

"I know what you said. I also know he makes a nasty drunk and that you don't fight him. You let him push you around if you think it will be over quicker. So that all changed when I left did it?"

"Sam, I just... I..."

"Dean, I've never understood it how you could let him treat you like that without snapping but I've never thought badly of you because of it. Loads of times it worked, he calmed down, it sorted. I just worried when it didn't work, when he started to lay into you, when you did nothing to stop him. I always worried that one day he would really hurt you when he was like that. So my question is, did you always check into a motel?"

"Until the last time, yeah. You'd have thought I'd have learnt by now what a mean drunk he is, but I guess it took a while to sink in." He sounds so sad as he says it, I can see his eyes lost in thought, remembering the past events.

"What happened the last time?"

"We were on a job. He was already drunk and things didn't go smoothly, I guess. Anyway, I got hurt. We got back to the motel and he started drinking again. I was fussing about him helping me clean up. He'd had enough so he hit me a few times. Then he left to meet Caleb. On the way he called the Pastor, told him he thought I was in trouble. Bobby came down and got me."

"He left you?"

"It was for the best at the time. I'd really pissed him off. Anyway, when Bobby arrived he ended up taking me to the ER. They sent the police to the motel, got Dad's description. Next thing I knew, he'd already been picked up for drink-driving. They just added my injuries to the list of crimes. By the time I was fit for release, I had to come up with the money to pay his driving fine but fortunately I had conviced them I'd been beaten up by someone else. Still it took me a while to get together enough money to get him out and Bobby let me stay while I did. Wouldn't lend me the money though. Anyway, Bobby drove me down the day, I went to get him out. Dad was raging that I'd left him in there so long when he did come out. Bobby just shoved me back in his car and we went back to his place, just left Dad there. He turned up a couple of months later looking for me, sober, clean, fairly apologetic and it all more or less blew over."

"What then?"

"We hit the road again. He stayed sober, more or less. We went back to work."

"You let him get away with what he did to you?"

"Not really Sam. The guy had to spend at least a couple of weeks in jail until I could get the money together. No-one would lend it to me, not Bobby obviously, but not Pastor Jim or Caleb either. I really struggled to come up with the money."

"You should have just left him to rot."

"You and Bobby would make a great tag team the way your minds work. That's exactly what he said. Anyway, Dad spent some time with Jim, got his act together and came back for me and everything was fine."

"You just forgave him?"

"Sam, it wasn't like that. I knew he was drunk. I should have stopped him drinking sooner. Or I should have stopped us going out on the job. I knew what was happening, I knew the risks. It was my fault."

"I don't follow your reasoning on that but I'll let it slide. When you got back and he hit you; that your fault too?"

"I provoked him, Sam. I should have known better."

"What exactly did you do to provoke him?"

"Look are you going to pay attention to the road or are we going to drive straight past the hospital when we get there? Are you getting the groceries while I'm in there?"

His barrier is flying back up and he's not going to tell me anymore so I back down and go with the change of topic. "I thought I'd come with you."

"For my benefit or to see Rosie?"

"I thought I'd come with you."

"You don't trust me?"

"Not that. Just thought I could come."

"Whatever!"

"Dean." I try not to sound too upset with his offhand remark. "I'm not trying to butt in, if you don't want me there, but I just want you to..."

"Sam, lighten up, okay. I know I did a really good impression of falling apart yesterday but trust me, just now I'm okay. Surprisingly so actually. So enough angst already. You don't want to shop for groceries alone. Fine come with me and Ill help you shop after."

I do go with him and the good thing about it is when he plays down the pain in his chest, with a nudge in the right direction, I get him to admit how much it still hurts. They can't explain it and just offer more painkillers but the breakthrough is his admission. It dawns on me that I am trying to break years of brainwashing; that Dean has lived by Dad's 'suck it up soldier' at least since Mom died, whereas I would run to him with hurts, not Dad and he would fuss over some and tell me to 'suck it up' with the lesser ones. Years later and I have a more realistic view of what can be worked through and what needs attention. Dean needs to learn that he can ask for help without being seen as weak.

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**_Author's Note: Thank you to all who read and reviewed, including and especiallly Rae Artemis._**


	9. IT's just a talk

_**Moving on

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**_Disclaimer:_ **_**Supernatural doesn't belong to me, nor does Dean, Sam, or the other characters you recognise. I am making no money so please don't come looking for me.****

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**_

_**Warning:**_ _some refereneces to past violence as the story progresses_

_**Spoilers -** post-end of Series 1 Devil's Trap so some passing mention of events in Season episodes such as Faith, Home, Devil's Trap etc.

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_**Author's Note:** Depending which episode I have watched most recently, my feelings about John Winchester vary. If you are a fan of JW - don't read and flame - this story for reasons best known to itself was not kind to him - if that is going to upset you, please don't read on._

_**Author's Note (2):** Thanks Rae for your continued support_

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_**Chapter 9 - It's just a Talk**_

Apart from that the hospital trip is uneventful. Back in the car, I'm surprised when Dean broaches the subject of Missouri. I realise that the injury must be preying on his mind a lot for him to do this.

"Do you think if I wrote her and apologised and explained she might help?"

"I'll just call her and ask her."

"That's not right, Sam. I was rude. Maybe you could find out if she can turn it off, you know, not read my mind."

"Okay, I'll ask." I'm struck by how worried he is about Missouri reading his mind and I wonder whether I should ask him about it. Instead I ask, "Dean, what do you want to do if she can't?"

"I don't know maybe she knows someone else who can help."

"Dean, what is it that worries you about this whole thing?"

"Trust me dude, I do not want her poking through my mind, prying into my dirty thoughts! A man has desires, Sam, and he certainly doesn't need to be sharing them with a woman older than his mother."

He's lying. Dean knows better than to imagine that Missouri would be poking through his sexual desires. But he won't be drawn further so I drop it for now. Bobby's talk yesterday has reminded me, how much patience I need to apply to the situation. His advice has paid off so far and Dean has already told me more than I could hope for.

We get the shopping done in no time and it doesn't cease to amaze me how versatile a cook Dean can be. I know Pastor Jim used to teach him stuff when we were kids, practical, hearty and cheap were the order of the day then. Over the years, it hasn't changed much but Dean has accumulated a wider knowledge and uses a wider range of ingredients.

"So what now?" I ask as we finish.

"Back to Bobby's," is the reply.

"I thought maybe we could go out for a bit, you know, just us, away from it all."

"Fine, swing by his first though, some of this needs to be kept cold."

An hour and a half later and we're heading out into the distance. Dean even whipped up sandwiches to take with us. "I know you, you'll be hungry before we're ten minutes down the road," is his comment on the subject.

"So you going to talk to me now?" he asks catching me by surprise as I drive.

"What?"

"The dreams, Sam, the dreams. You said earlier, you were going to tell me about them."

"Yeah, well, okay. Do you remember back when we were in the motel and I had a dream about two kids?"

"Yeah, afterwards, you said they were okay. They didn't need us."

"No, that's right, they didn't need us. Dean, the kids... they were us. I've been dreaming about us, about things that happened to us."

"Like remembering stuff. Sammy, sometimes I wonder about you. You said you didn't know who they were or where they were."

"I didn't. Dean, this is not stuff that I remember. Some of it, I'm too young to have a memory of."

"Like what?"

"Like that dream I told you about then. I was in your arms asleep you were rocking me. Dean, you wouldn't have been more than six. I can't remember stuff from that far back."

"So why are you dreaming about it?"

"I don't know. Maybe, I wonder if..." I don't want him to feel criticised, I don't want him to think I'm stupid either. "Look, I don't really know, but maybe it's because you're ill or maybe it's something telling me it's time I grew up and looked out for you like you've always looked out for me."

"Sam, you shouldn't have to keep looking out for me. I am getting there, honestly. You know, maybe the end of the week we could look into you getting back to Stanford."

"You want that? I figured you'd want to hang here near Bobby for a while yet. We've not got many real friends."

"You have plenty of friends round Palo Alto. I thought you were missing them."

"Dean, just so I'm clear on this. Are we talking about me going back to Stanford or us going? I am not leaving you. There's too much I need you for. I don't want you on the other side of the country."

"Sam, I'll be okay. This will pass, you don't have to stay and look after me. I'll get it together, another week, I'll be fine. You can go back. We'll stay in touch. I don't need a babysitter."

I could kick myself for saying those words the other night, he's used them more than once in conversations since. He's saying the words telling me to leave, but he sounds terrible. The words bear no conviction, merely a sense of obligation and it's my fault he feels this way right now.

"No, I know you don't need a babysitter. I wish I had never said that to you because I didn't mean it, I was just being... Dean, what about me though? What about the visions? I can hardly tell anyone else about them?" I keep in mind Bobby's reminder of how fragile his state of mind is and so rather than continue to suggest that he needs me, I go back to what he has always been and done for me.

"The phone, Sam. I'll only ever be a phone call away. It's not like with Dad. I would always answer if you called."

"It's not that. I just... I don't want to do it alone just yet... you know, I'm just used to you being there. I'm not used to having to deal with this crap without you."

"You'll manage Sam. You don't really need me."

"Not yet. Not with dreams, visions and like that time at Max's with the telekinesis, supposing that starts again."

"You'll be fine. Maybe it'll all stop if you get away anyway."

"I don't want to go, not yet." It's a simple and final statement and he looks at me, slightly surprised but nods and accepts it as a decision.

"So what else have you dreamt? What was significant about it?"

"I don't know. You know when we were kids, how often did Dad leave us?"

"I don't know. I never kept count. All I ever thought about was keeping you out of trouble. It was great once you could read, it kept you out of my hair."

"Do you remember the first time Dad left us?"

"Not really, no. The times all blur. It happened often enough that I was used to it. Why? It was no big deal."

"Did he always come back when he said he would?"

"Judging by the question, you already know the answer to that. So why bother asking?"

"Okay, sorry. What was it like? I don't remember him not being back on time until I was well into my teens yet it must have happened before then?"

"I learnt that Dad's two nights often meant three or four fairly early on. The trick was to never tell you when he was actually due so you didn't need to worry that he wasn't back."

"But you did?"

"What? Worry? Not so much. I suppose I probably did the first couple of times but then I got used to it. It was no big deal, like I said."

"In the one dream, I think you're worried."

"You're probably dreaming about the first time it happened then. Like I said I got used to it."

"Did you ever worry he wasn't coming back?"

His laugh is harsh and bitter. It doesn't sound like him at all. "Dad? Not come back? Of course he'd come back. He was too much of a hard-ass marine to not come back."

"If he was late back, what did we do for food?"

"We managed. He left me with food and a bit of cash."

"Enough?"

"Sam, I know he was never going to win 'Father of the Year' but he wasn't an absolute bastard. You know, I sometimes think you've forgotten all the stuff he did do for us. It could have been worse."

"How?"

"If he'd given us up or if we'd been taken away from him. You know we wouldn't have been kept together don't you? You wanted that?"

"No, of course I didn't. Who told you they'd have separated us?"

"Dad."

"He tell you that when he wanted you to look after me?"

"Yeah."

"He tell you, it'd be your fault if we were separated?"

"Sam, what are you getting at?" he sounds irritated now.

"Dean, what I'm getting at is he made you responsible for me, made you think it was your job to keep the family together. You do know that was his job, right? His job, but he didn't do it, you did."

"Why do you think we had a roof over our head, food to eat, money to spend?"

"That was the minimum and don't tell me he always came through. I know you provided loads, particularly as you got older."

"I could hardly not, we weren't in a position for me to just sit back on my ass."

"We shouldn't have relied on you as much."

"You're talking ideal situations, Sam. Once Mom died, there was no chance of that."

"It could have been better than it was."

"Yeah. It could. Happy now I've said it?"

"It's not about that. Without you, what would it have been like?"

"Different. Better probably. Dad would have stayed and looked after you or maybe someone would have taken you in, brought you up properly."

"Dean, I didn't mean it like that. I meant you kept it together, you provided the normality, the sense of everything being okay."

"Not very well, judging by what you're saying." I can hear the hurt in his voice.

"Listen to me, I never knew there was anything wrong. I didn't know I needed to worry because of you. So yeah, you did fine. In my dream, I'm fine, it's only you that's worried, so that shows how well you did, how safe you kept me."

"Yeah whatever." His words are off-hand but I can hear a hint of relief in them. I think that along with not realising how much he did, I hadn't appreciated how little faith he had in his own achievements. Dean sees so much of what he has done as not good enough. It's only now that I have begun to see this. It's more of Dad's brainwashing. The best Dean could hope for from Dad was a sign that what he had done was acceptable, never good. The only time Dad would have shown a real reaction was when Dean got it wrong. Criticism, never praise.

"We finished now?"

"What?"

"The heart-to-heart. It done?"

"Yeah, Dean, we're done."

"So what now?"

"A walk. Maybe loosen up a bit - you still stiff? I wasn't thinking too strenous."

"Sure."

* * *


	10. It's just a walk

_**Moving On**_

_**Chapter 10 - It's just a walk**_

So that's what we do and it's strange how it feels. I can't remember a time when Dean and I ever went for a walk in the country that wasn't to check out some evil entity. The only other visit would have been on a training run. 

We've been walking about twenty minutes in an easy silence when Dean suddenly says, "You need to tell me about any other dreams?" 

It catches me by surprise but I have time enought to know that as sincere as he is, as much as he is asking because he is worried about me, he couldn't take any more details right now. The content of my dreams cut too close to things that are painful for him. We've talked a lot today, he's admitted a lot despite the playing down. Bobby was right last night. If I listen, Dean does tell me, answer me. If I think about it, I know when he's playing it down and I can pick the truth from the stories he tells. 

"Nah. I'm good." 

"Okay Sam. For the record though, I don't believe you but I'm not going to argue the point. You know where to find me when you want to talk." 

"Yeah thanks. Same goes for you too, you know." The silence resumes as we head back for the car. It's comfortable though. We're fine and Dean seems more relaxed now. 

I can see the car when Dean speaks next. "I think that's a first." 

"Sorry?" 

"The walk. I don't think I've ever just walked like that. Not checking something out, not planning a job, not training, just a walk!" 

I can't help but laugh. "What's so funny?" he says. 

"I was thinking the same thing." 

"Weird. We've been spending too much time together, bro." 

We settle back in the car and I start the engine up. As I pull away, he says, "So Rosie, what do you reckon?" 

"What do you mean, what do I reckon?"

"Go for it? Or have you got your eye on someone else?" 

"No eyes on anyone, Dean." 

"So Rosie then. She's interested, you know. She was always asking after you when I was in the hospital. She's single, cute, what more could you ask?" 

"Dean, I'm not looking for a relationship." 

"I'm not suggesting you marry her, just go out, maybe a nice meal, a film, something normal. You don't need to spend all your free time hanging with Bobby and me." 

"What about you?" 

"In what sense?" 

"If I went out, what would you be doing?" 

"I've got plenty to do - read, watch TV, sleep, stuff on the laptop, there's jobs I could do around the house for Bobby. I can keep myself occupied Sammy." 

"What about going out? Meeting people?" 

"Not yet, Sam, huh. Just... I can't, okay?" as he speaks he turns to the window. I can see the tension creeping back into his shoulders. 

"Okay. So you think Rosie might be interested in going out with me?" I turn the conversation back to me, hoping to take the pressure away from him and stop the rising tension. 

It works. "I do and I have her number for you so there's nothing holding you back now." 

"I'll think about it." 

He sounds almost like himself when he says, "You think too much. Sometimes you have to throw caution to the wind and go with it." I throw him a 'look' and he smiles gently. "Just dinner Sam. Give it a go. You never know you might enjoy it." 

I acquiesce and his smile grows wider.

* * *


	11. The Edge of the Truth

_**Moving On

* * *

**_

_**Chapter 11 - The Edge of the Truth**_

It's been a horrible few weeks and I can't believe what I've put Sam and Bobby through. At times it was almost as if I was watching myself act out but couldn't stop myself. I've started arguments with Sam that I couldn't handle, leaving Bobby to pick up the pieces when I've had another panic attack or I've heard him laying into Sam about being more careful with me. I hate it. I hate what I've become.

I hate the fact that when I'm on my own I have to constantly fight back the need to panic. I try to fill every spare moment so I don't have time to think. I don't sit down until I'm exhausted and if I can I wait until someone else is in the house. I can't explain the fear and I can't stop it.

I worry about Dad, out there alone, but I've learnt my lesson. He wants nothing more to do with me and as Sam and Bobby want nothing to do with him, we have no common ground.

I have tried to remind Sam of the good thngs Dad did but he refuses to accept them. He either turns it round and says it was me who did it or he lists times Dad failed us. With Bobby backing him up on the subject, I can see little point in persisting with the defence. I know when I'm beaten.

I don't like the content of Sam's dreams. They are times that are better left, things I don't like to remember. The source of enough of my nightmares for me to know that Sam is better of ignorant of them. Instead he dreams continually of my weakness and the ways I couldn't protect him and I fail him again because I can provide no answers, nothing to stop his dreams.

I try to wear myself out in the hope of dreamless sleep but it doesn't last. As soon as exhaustion passes, the dreams start again. Night after night, I wake from sleep, sweating and on the verge of panic. I wake myself on the edge of crying out. I want to check on Sam but I know I can't risk the stairs creaking if I try to climb them. At the moment, neither Bobby nor Sam have realised I'm not just getting up early. Part of me feels that maybe I should mention it to Sam. Part of me feels that maybe I should mention it to Sam. We have promised to hide nothing more from each other in health terms. I don't want to lie to him but I hate him looking at me like I'm about to break. What kind of man have I become?

The stair creaks but I can't even summon the energy to turn and look behind me from where I'm sitting at the kitchen table. I know it's Bobby anyway.

"Thought I might find you here," he says.

"Predictable as ever then, I guess." I don't turn and he remains in the doorway.

"Are you going to give me that?"

"I'm not doing any harm with it." I spin the knife in front of me again.

"I know. You make a mess of my table though and you're the one sanding it and refinishing it."

"What do you want from me, Bobby?"

"I want you to let Sam and I help you?"

"How do you intend to do that?"

"Let's start by you telling me what's bothering you. Why aren't you sleeping?"

I spin the knife again. "You know what they say."

"What do 'they' say, Dean?"

"No rest for the wicked."

"Okay. So now we've got the flippant part over, why aren't you sleeping?"

"Not tired enough, I guess."

"Not tired enough to sleep or not tired enough for it to be dreamless?"

"And you were going to tell us when exactly? I seem to remember hearing about a promise you made to Sam to tell the truth."

"I haven't told any lies." I spin the knife and stop it by putting my hand down on the handle.

"No. But you haven't told the truth either. How long has it been going on?"

"Since the hospital took me off the good stuff."

"Before you got out?"

"Yep."

"Did they know?"

"Guess not."

"So what wakes you up? Dreams?"

"Reality, Bobby. Why do you think he's having dreams of stuff he doesn't remember?"

"We're not talking about Sam, we're talking about you."

"I'm fine."

"I can see that. So you're up at what? Four in the morning just because..."

"Because I'm not tired..." I spin the knife and stop it again.

"Right, I can see that by the bags under your eyes."

"Like I said, I'm fine."

"Then what are you doing with the knife?"

"It helps me." Spin...stop.

"Helps you what?"

"Not think."

"The knife helps you not think. So, what are you not thinking about?"

"Ha ha! Very funny. I'm not thinking remember." Silence falls, I spin the knife and stop it. Spin, stop, spin, stop, spin... All the time Bobby watches.

Spin, stop, spin, stop. I pick the knife up and look down the edge of the blade.

"Dean!" There's a note of warning in his voice.

"It's a good knife," I answer as I run my finger along its side.

"Put it down."

"Well looked after, clean, sharp."

"Dean, stop it!" I place my finger at its tip. His voice is stern although quiet.

"It's a good hunting blade, efficient, cuts clean with little pressure." I draw my finger from the tip along the blade edge up toward the hilt. It leaves the slightest tinge where my skin has broken. Nothing deep.

He slaps it out of my hand and it clatters down on the table. "I told you to stop it. I won't have you messing with knives in my house. You want me to lock them up as if you were a child."

"I'm not doing any harm and I know what I'm doing." I return to the spinning and stopping. "You think I'm stupid."

"I think you're hurting."

"You know what?" I pick the knife up again examining the blade carefully in the light before I continue, "Life... life is like the blade on this knife. Good people get to walk here," I indicate the broad, flat side of the blade. "People like me, we get to walk here." I point at the cutting edge. "All we can hope for is to keep the pressure even, the cuts small and clean."

"No Dean, that's not all you can hope for. What you have to do is ask for help. Friends help turn the blade from that to this." He turns my wrist moving the flat side back to the top.

"It doesn't work like that. Not with me."

"What makes you say that?"

"Look at Sam." I gesture to the flat of the blade. "He was here with Jess, then I showed up and now he's on the edge."

"No Dean. I agree he was here with Jess, but it was her death that dragged him here and it's you who stopped him going over. You put yourself between him and the edge. You protect him."

"Not well enough." I put the knife down on the table quietly. The room is silent as I stare at the blade. I break the silence eventually. "Why do you think he's having dreams of stuff he doesn't remember?" I ask again.

"I don't know."

"Do you think it's my fault?"

"No. Why would I think that?"

"They're all times I failed." I spin the knife again. This time Bobby pushes my hand to the table away from the knife. As the knife slows, he lets go of me and picks it up.

He sits down and sighs. "No they're not, or not the ones he's told me about."

"How many are there?"

"Talk to him, Dean."

"No."

"Why not?"

"How many reasons do you want?"

"Only the good ones."

"Huh! Very funny. You know I got to thinking about something Sam was saying. He was talking about who told me we'd be separated if we were taken into care. Thing is, I was thinking, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it would have been better. Sam would have had a proper family, parents who looked after him, maybe brothers and sisters. A proper school with proper friends, not always being the outsider. I made that decision. I chose to deny him all of that."

"No, you didn't. Your Dad denied him that. There's no guarantee he would have got anything like that through care. He could have been worse off. You did real well. Your Dad should have come through for you both but he didn't.

"He deserved better."

"You both deserved better."

"It was in my power to make sure he got it."

"No, Dean, it wasn't. All you could have ensured was different. He could have had it worse."

"Unlikely. Hunting was no life for him. He's intelligent. He got a full ride to Stanford. He could have had it all. He **should **have had it all."

"He's not the only intelligent one, Dean. You could have done it too with someone to back you."

"You're wrong there, dude. No qualifications here. Not even smart enough to finish school that was me."

"Dean, I know what happened. Jim told me, so don't pretend you're dumb when circumstances took your opportunity away."

"Circumstances! Opportunity! I dropped out Bobby, no-one made me do it. Dad didn't make me. I did it. I was too chicken to face it."

"No. You had your future, your choices taken away and you chose the only thing left to you. You didn't fight it, you protected Sam from that so he never knew, so he could make his own choices. You couldn't leave him, it was never in your nature to do that and so you left school."

"Coward, that's what I am."

"We could get you those qualifications now. There's an adult ed centre in the town. It would give you something better to think about rather than all this introspection."

"What? So everyone knows what a dumbass I am?"

"No. So everyone knows that despite not getting them at school, you are smart?"

"I... what would... Sam might..."

"Dean. Just think about it okay. I'm not going to say anymore. I'm not going to say anything in front of Sam. You think and when you've made a decision about whether you want to know more you let me know. I know the guy in charge, I can drop you down for a chat one day when Sam's at work. He doesn't need to know until you've made a decision unless you want him to."

"Bobby? If I say no...?"

"Fine. Just make sure you make the decision you want. This is for you."

"It's just... No, it doesn't matter" I can't tell him what I'm really thinking.

"Tell me Dean. I'm not going to judge you, but tell me the truth."

I want the knife back, it gives me something to focus on, something other than Bobby. I clench one fist inside the other and begin to knead it. He pushes my hands to the table for the second time. "Stop it, Dean. It's not worth this. You want it, we sort it. You don't want it, fine, no big deal. It's just a choice and it's not even one you have to make now."

How do I tell him? How can I explain what I'm thinking? How can I tell him and pretend to have any dignity left at all? He and Sam keep talking about the truth; telling the truth Dean, no more lies Dean. I don't exist except within a web of lies. I feel his hand trembling over mine, just seconds before I realise my breath is hitching again. It isn't his hand trembling it's me, I can feel the tremors through my body. I look up at him and know instantly he knows what's happening, hell, he probably knew before me. I try to push away from the table, but he moves his hand from mine to grip one arm, using the other to stop my free arm. "Stop it. Sit still. Dean, just breathe and listen, you'll be fine. Nothing else. Focus on what I'm saying. Now as far as I can work out there are three things that you could be worried about, so I'm going to go through them one by one. The first is that you don't want to do it but don't want to tell me so I'm going to say this, it doesn't matter. If you don't want it, it's fine. The second is what happens if you do it and fail. Again it doesn't matter, give it a shot, you don't stand to lose anything by trying. The third is Sam. I don't think it should matter what Sam thinks but I guess he would probably be all for it. But if that's the problem don't tell him until you've made a decision, we'll call it a surprise. I don't really want lies but if it's a big problem, we won't tell him. Does that sort it?"

I can feel the red flush of embarrassment in my cheeks, I still can't breathe easily although it's not so bad. I push away from the table quicker, this time escaping his grasp. I move to lean by the sink, staring out into the black nothing beyond the window. I can feel my eyes begin to brim. I try staring into the distance unblinking but the feeling just gets worse, so I close my eyes hoping to stop them from overflowing. By the time Bobby's hand settles on my shoulder, it's too late and I know the tears are visible on my cheeks if he looks. "Come on, Dean. Just keep breathing, you can do this. You can control it, don't let it control you. Just breathe."

I try to do what he says. I focus on breathing, on his hand, on the black nothing outside until its okay. The panic hasn't gone, it's still there but it's behind the embarrassment. I wipe my cheeks. "Come and sit down." I don't move. "Dean? It's over, come on." He pushes me towards the chair. "Sit down." I shake my head and grip the back of the chair. "Dean tell me. Maybe we can fix it."

"Can't fix me."

"Give it time, Dean. We're not talking about something that is going to happen immediately. You're getting better, look how you overcame the panic just now."

"You did it." I wish it was me is what I want to shout at him. I wish I could do it. I wish I didn't feel like this.

"No, I was just here. You did the hard bit. Talk to me, Dean. Let me help."

"I don't feel like... me. I want to try... you know the school thing but... I... what if people... I can't... people looking... people thinking I'm... I... it's stupid, I'm stupid."

"No Dean. It's not stupid and nor are you. Not at all. How about I chat to my friend and find out a bit more. Maybe you could do some study here before you need to go to classes. What do you think?"

I can barely nod my agreement without panicking that I'm doing the wrong thing. He adds, "Even once I've spoken to him, you still don't have to do it."

His calm patience helps; he doesn't seem to judge but then we've been in a similar position before. Last time I took refuge here, last time he took me in to protect me from Dad.

"He doesn't want to know me at all, does he? I tried to do what he wanted, but I failed him and now he can't even bear to..."

"Stop! It's not your problem, it's his, Dean. Your Dad is screwed up, has been since your Momma died, maybe before who knows. Any father with an ounce of sense would be proud to have a son like you. If my boy had... if he'd lived... I'd be proud of him if he were like you but I would never have let him face what you've done, not alone and, if it was within my power, not at all!"

"Why...?" I can't finish the question. It isn't fair to ask him.

"Why what Dean?" I shake my head in denial. I won't ask him that. "No? Fine. I think I know what you want to ask. Why didn't I become like your Daddy? Dean, there are two types of hunter. There are the ones like you and me, Caleb and Jim. We hunt because we know what's out there, we know how bad it can be, we don't want other people to go through what we've been through. If you like, we hunt to protect. We know nothing we do is going to bring back what we've lost. Then there are hunters like your Daddy. They hunt just for revenge. They hunt because they want to make something pay for what they've lost, for how they feel. They think if they kill enough it will take away their pain. It doesn't. Nothing but time or your own death will do that. The thing is we gradually replace the pain. Every time we see a family saved, someone else survive, a little piece of our pain is taken away and replaced with a piece of, I don't know what to call it, happiness isn't the right word, contentment maybe, peace, respite. We know that our loved ones can look down and be proud of what we do in their memory. Your momma would be so proud of you Dean, of everything you've achieved, all the ways you've supported Sammy, the people you've saved. Jim and Caleb were proud of you too. They were like me, they'd have been proud to call you son. Your Daddy's a fool for not seeing that."

I don't think he'll ever know how much I want to believe him, how much I want what he's saying to be true. "I'm sorry."

"Come on, Dean. Go and lie down at the least. Rest. Take a book and read but just take it easy. I can see it. You are getting better and you will keep on getting better but you need to rest even if you're not sleeping."

* * *


	12. Stepping Forward

_**Moving On

* * *

**_

_**Chapter 12 - Stepping Forward**_

Dean catches me by surprise the morning he asks me about my friend at the school. He's sitting on a bench in the workshop looking relaxed as I work. As I look at him, I realise he's not as relaxed as he's trying to appear, but I'm impressed by how much control he's exerting right now. 

"I'll give him a call, see if I can sort out a time for the two of you to chat." 

"Uh-huh." He closes his eyes, breathes slowly before opening his eyes again and nodding confirmation. 

"Do you want me to say anything about 'you know' to him?" 

"Does he need to know." 

"Probably not."

"Whatever you think, Bobby." 

"You spoken to Sammy?" 

"Not yet. Still thinking." 

"Dean, in case Mark asks, how far off finishing were you?" 

"I can't remember exactly, maybe 3 or 4 months. It was a long time ago now. I've never really thought about it since." 

"You gonna take over here for me and I'll go call him." He jumps down and as he steps up beside me, I can hear how ragged his breathing is and as he holds out his hand to take the screwdriver I can see the shake. I catch his eye and say "This what you want?" 

"Yeah, a chat then... then we'll see." 

"Sounds good." 

He turns to take over where I left off. I walk away but turn to watch him for a moment from the door. The anxiety is rolling off of him but he's holding it together well for the moment. 

It doesn't take long to make the arrangements on the phone and so I'm back and watching him again before he realises I'm there. I see him throw the screwdriver down and grip the edge of the bench he was working on. "Just get a fucking grip and stop acting like a moron." I hear him say to himself - it's not quite the pep talk I'd have given him but it's very Dean. I can hear his breathing which has become even more erratic in my absence. 

I start to step forward to go and help when something makes me hold back to see if he can get it under control himself. I've arranged for him to meet Mark this afternoon, just after lunch and I'm wondering if we're going to be able to make it at all. 

As I listen, I can hear that his breathing is calmer although not exactly normal. I look round and see he has picked up the screwdriver again and is working on the screws. 

"Dean?" 

The screwdriver drops as he jumps. "Shit" He turns around. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" His words are softened by a nervous smile. 

"How are you getting on there, sport?" 

"Not so good. I don't think I've managed to get more than one right first time. Sorry." 

"Don't worry. How about we get cleaned up and get some lunch?" 

"Uh-huh. You, er... you speak to your friend?" 

"Yeah. But lunch now, make sure you clean yourself up properly first though, change your clothes." 

He's at the door when he realises what I've said. He grabs the frame with a groan and sinks to the floor. 

"Dean!" I rush to his side but he pushes me away. 

"Leave me alone." He rests his head on his knees. 

"You okay?" 

"Peachy!" 

"What are we doing sitting on the floor then?" I can hear the erratic breathing again. 

"At least one of us is here by choice." 

"Okay. What about the other one?" 

"I wondered what the view would be like?" 

"Course you did. Seen enough now? Ready to get up and get on?" 

"Give me a minute." 

"Sure. You going to tell me what the problem is?" 

"You've arranged the meeting for this afternoon, haven't you?" 

"It's just a chat, Dean. You're not committing to anything more unless you want to." 

"If I can't even get ready for this, how the hell am I going to get through a chat." 

"Okay. First he's fine; Mark. You'll like him, nice guy. Second, it's a few minutes out of your day, that's all." 

"He'll think I'm an idiot." 

"No, he won't. He already knows a bit about you." 

"He does?" 

"There aren't that many car accidents around here. Let alone ones as big as the one you were in and you all survived. Then Sammy has drawn a bit of attention in town. He's not exactly inconspicuous at that height is he? Apparently, Mark's daughter is reading about three times the number of books she was reading before just so she can keep going into the bookstore to ogle our boy!" 

Dean snorts in amusement. He seems calmer again. "And I bet our very own geek boy hasn't realised either." 

"I'd say that's a given." 

"So what else does Mark know?" 

"He knew Sam was at Stanford." 

"Great," I can hear the disappointment in his voice as he pulls at the threads around the hole in his jeans. "Geek boy was at Stanford but I'm the thick one. You know maybe this isn't such a good idea." It's pride talking now, not anxiety. Despite being proud of Sam's achievements, despite the fact that he would sacrifice everything again for Sam, Dean doesn't want to be seen as stupid alongside him. He stands and walks to lean against the workbench. 

"Dean, listen. I explained to him that due to family circumstances you had to leave school early and that you made sure Sam got to finish because of it. I've not gone in to details. Anything more is up to you, but he's not going to think you're stupid." 

"Whatever. Come on old man. We better get ready." He offers his hand to pull me up. 

"You going through with this?" 

"Yeah I think so." 

"It'll be fine. You get ready, I'll make lunch." 

"Umm Bobby?" He waits until I'm looking at him. "No lunch huh, for me anyway." 

"It might help..." 

"Trust me on this, no lunch, I'll eat afterwards." 

"Okay sport. Dean? There's one thing. You have any jeans without...um... holes." I didn't really want to embarrass him but both boys were pretty short on decent clothes. I'd been able to help Sam out with some whilst Dean was still in the hospital but as yet Dean had not needed to worry about appearing in public. 

"I...I don't know what I've got. I'll go and see. I just... I haven't really thought since I've been here. I just swop between the one set in the wash and the other." 

"It doesn't matter. Just have a look and if not, we'll get you some in town after." 

"I..." 

"Dean, I owe you wages for the amount you've done round and about so don't say it okay?" 

"Thank you," he says quietly before heading back into the house. 

He appears in the kitchen twenty minutes later wearing a pair of suit pants and a shirt and looking embarrassed. "Erm.. you got a belt I could borrow? Mine doesn't fit through the loops and I didn't need a belt last time I wore these. I thought the jacket would be too much but...?" 

Looking at him is another reminder of how ill he's been since the accident. The pants were hanging off of him as if made for Sam, but I ignore that and say, "They're a good option. I'll go find a belt. Hang on."

* * *


	13. Decisions

**_Moving On_**

* * *

**_Chapter 13 - Decisions_**

**__**

Bobby dropped me at the door. He offered to come in but I figure if I'm going to do this, I've got to do it on my own. Hell, I've taken Sam and I into enough schools to register over the years this shouldn't be a problem. 

I stick my hands in my pockets to try and hide how much they are shaking and walk in through the door. 

"Dean? Hi, I'm Mark." A guy comes forward with a smile and his hand outstretched. 

"Yeah, hi." I shake his hand. 

"Come on through, we can chat." He seems friendly and relaxed, which is good because I probably seem anything but. "Coffee?" 

"Thanks." He hands me a cup and sits down himself. 

"So Bobby says you're thinking about trying to get some qualifications and you're interested in what we might be able to offer. So what I'll do is run down the kind of stuff we do, then you can tell me the sort of area you're specifically interested in and I can elaborate more. How's that sound?" 

"Good." I'm glad he's talking because it means I don't need to. 

"Right so, we cater for a range of people. We have people here who left school not reading and writing or having difficulty with math. We've got people who for various reasons left school before exams and just want the opportunity to get the certificates. We also have some people doing vocational stuff, mechanics, childcare, carpentry, that sort of thing. So Bobby tells me you had to leave school early, but that you weren't far off graduating." 

"Yeah, it was a long time ago though." 

"Sure." 

"I kind of had a bit of a patchy record; we... er... we moved... around... kind of a lot, but I wasn't too bad but I guess I've probably missed chunks and it was a long time ago." 

"Right, so you want to get that under your belt rather than something more job-oriented?" 

"Yeah, I... I do. I want that. First." 

"Good choice. A start with possibilities of more later. I like that." The strange thing is I like the sound of it too. I feel like I have something I can prove. "So how we work is this," he continues," each student has a tutor who oversees and troubleshoots with you if you like. They spend the first week or two, sometimes longer, one on one. In that time, we work out, where a student is at, what they need and so on. Then we match you up with other students who are covering the same areas. It means you might be with different students for different classes. We work out what your commitment can be. Obviously we realise that lots of students have commitments, work, family and so on as well as studying. All we ask is that once we've agreed something that you keep to it as far as possible. No skipping out as it were. Any problems, you let us know and we try to work round it. Still sounding okay?" 

"Er yeah." There are a whole bunch of questions forming in my mind. 

"We expect a certain amount of self-study at home as well. We loan out any text books people need to help keep the costs down, but if you want to buy them you can do that instead. Umm... yeah I know what I was going to say. Bobby dropped you in right?" I nod. "You're not driving yet, since your accident?" 

"No, it'll be a while yet." 

"What we'll do is set you up with classes that more or less run-on from each other. You'll need a bit of a break between but then you can maybe get a lift in first thing and a pick up about lunch maybe 2 or 3 times a week. We'll see how it goes when you start. How does that sound?" 

"Good, I think." 

"Oh er, tutor? Will I do? A couple of my students have just finished so I have plenty of time on my hands right now."

"Yeah, that would be good."

"Dean, there's one thing I want to say to you. Be honest with us, if it's too hard, too easy, too much or too little, whatever, tell us. Our point in being here is to help people succeed in getting the skills they want but most of all to help people enjoy learning. A lot of people here didn't have an easy time at school when they were young. We don't want to repeat that experience here. So just talk. You might find it hard to concentrate when you start since you've been out of school for a while. Just let me know and we'll tailor it accordingly. So you have any questions?" 

"How do we start?" 

"Right. Okay. If you're up for it, I have some, I suppose you could call them aptitude test, we use them to find out what sort of level your literacy and math are at if that's okay? From there we start on a program of study for those. Once that's going well, we look at your other subjects and work out the workload you can manage." 

"I've got time on my hands right now." 

"Right. Well, we'll see how it goes. Anything else you want to ask?" 

"Yeah." If I ask it he finds out, if I don't ask, I might not be able to face going to the class and he finds out anyway. 

"Go ahead." 

"The classes... how... how big are they? I mean, how many people?" 

"Most are less than 10. If you prefer we can focus on ones with small groups until you feel ready for a bigger group." 

"I... you'll think..." 

"First, I'm here to help, something like that is easy to help with. Second, if it worries you, stresses you, puts you off coming, it's not helping you learn. We're in the business of helping people learn so we do whatever we can to find a way round it." 

"Thank you and Bobby..." 

"Anything that happens here is yours to share with people outside not ours." He smiles warmly. "So you still game?" 

"Yeah, I guess so." 

"How about we start tomorrow morning?" 

"So quickly?" 

"Any reason to delay?" 

"I guess not." 

"Good man. Let's get started. It's easier once you're underway. Ten sound good?" 

"Yeah, for how long ? What time will you be through?" 

He laughs, "I'm not actually going to torture you, you know. How about Bobby comes by about 1/4 past 12, something like that?" 

"Right, thanks. Thanks for your time." 

"I look forward to tomorrow." 

I walk out of the building feeling remarkably positive for the first time since... and that in itself is frightening. I can't remember feeling this positive since the summer Sam and I spent at Pastor Jim's and I studied loads over the summer and was actually looking forward to going back to school in the fall. That year I convinced the teachers I could get through and they were all for me applying for university. They laid futures in front of me and following bust-up after bust-up at home, I turned my back on all the futures I was tempted by, I dropped out and became me, a failure and a disappointment to the people around me. 

I've about given up hope that anything I do will make a difference to Dad and Pastor Jim's gone but maybe I can prove to Sam that I'm not a complete idiot and maybe I can make what Bobby said true, that he would be proud if his son had turned out like me. 

"Ready, sport? That was quick. You finished already? Did it go okay?" I hadn't noticed Bobby pull back up in the truck but I can hear the worry in his voice. 

"Yeah, I'm through for today but if it's okay could you give me a lift in tomorrow for ten?" 

"Sure. Everything go okay?" 

"Yeah, it did. You know something? I think I can do this. I actually feel like this is the right thing to do." 

"Good for you. It'll all be fine. You going to tell Sam tonight then?" 

"No, not yet. Let me get started, work out how long it's going to take, stuff like that. Then I'll surprise him. I want it to be a bit of good news." 

"Okay sport. I can live with that. So how long are you going to need tomorrow?" 

"Just over two hours. Mark reckons I'll be good to go by 1/4 past 12." 

"Fine. I've got some stuff I need to do and that's not a bad amount of time to do it. I might be a few minutes late back that but I'll be as quick as I can. Will you be okay with that?" 

"I could get the groceries if you're not there. I'll call you, let you know when I'm out, you let me know how long you'll need." 

He looks somewhat surprised by my suggestion but agrees to it anyway. 

"So you have a timetable yet?" 

"No, I guess that's something we sort tomorrow. He said maybe 2 or 3 mornings a week. Would you mind that? Some self study too. He said we fit it round other commitments." 

"You'd better sort out your hospital schedule then." 

"I guess and when Sam's off I suppose." 

"That's not so bad, we can always make an excuse that we're going out to do something I suppose." 

"And you were the one who didn't want lies!" 

"Yeah, I know." 

"Bobby, I just wanted to say thanks for this. I actually feel quite positive about it all at the minute. The most positive I've felt since the accident. I think I can do this." 

"Good. I know you can." 


	14. Progress

**_Moving On

* * *

_**

**_Chapter 14 - Progress_**

Dean has been going to the school for three weeks and the change in him is amazing. He seems more like himself, some degree of self-confidence is back along with laughter. I realise how much that had been missing before, how much I had missed it. It makes me realise how desperate Dean must have been feeling for there to have been no laughter in so long.

He still hasn't told Sam what he's doing and we've managed to keep the mornings at school a secret and he has hidden both his pile of books and the time he is spending studying.

Sam's attitude has improved and he's making a real effort not to upset Dean most of the time, but he is still unobservant and hasn't realised how great an improvement Dean has made over these last weeks. He still relies too much on me to ask the right questions in front of Dean to keep him informed but given the current situation with Dean having sworn me to secrecy, Sam is wrong to rely on me as his source of information and I can't exactly tell him that so the stalemate continues.

Another good outcome is that Dean at least appears to be sleeping better. He complained that Mark had limited him to two mornings at the school and some self-study for now but I figure Mark must know what he's doing because Dean comes out of those mornings exhausted and by the time he's packed away and hidden all his books and Sam's home, he's weary and ready to sleep. I figure he's not waking up so much either as the bags beneath his eyes have almost vanished.

Mark came out to the truck with him this morning, apparently to arrange for me to pick up some stuff from his brother, but I think he had an ulterior motive. As Dean climbed into the truck, I asked him how the morning had gone and he said, "Fine. It was interesting. I've got more reading to do."

Mark cut in with a sigh, as he leant on my open window, "Dean, that's an opportunity to show off. He's smart, Bobby. I'm glad you brought him in. He'll have this under his belt in no time, then we'll have to find something else to keep him out of trouble! Now Dean, I'll see you Monday, in the meantime, show off for an hour then back to work! Have a good weekend, guys!"

As we drive away, I ask "So what was Mark talking about?"

"I handed in an assignment last time and he's marked it. He's given it an A, but I figure it's like encouragement to spur me on, not a real A."

"I don't think he'd do that. I think if he says it's good then it must be. He certainly sounded pleased. So how'd the rest of the morning go?"

"Pretty good actually. I joined a class, it's only a small one but..."

"That's good then. More work though, huh?"

"I guess."

"You going to tell Sam now?"

"No, not yet."

"Things are going well. Hell you got an A, we should be celebrating." He smiles but shakes his head. "Why not?"

"I don't want to jinx it. Things are going well."

"Why would telling Sam change that?"

"I don't know."

"Your mind works in mysterious ways, Dean."

"I thought that was supposed to be a woman's mind."

"Maybe you're in touch with your feminine side."

"In that case, I'm not cooking anymore, you two can do it."

"Definitely in touch with the feminine side. The evidence is all there, don't know how we missed it for so long!"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Irrational lines of thinking, threatening other people with jobs like cooking, moody at certain times. Dean, you are..."

"Just don't say it, old man, if you want to live to see another day."

"Methinks, the lady doth protest too much."

"Ha, bloody ha!" I glance across and see him relaxed and smiling and know that things are looking up.

* * *


	15. Looking to the Future

**_Moving On _****_

* * *

Chapter 15 - Looking to the Future_**

Sometimes I figure I should know better and sometimes I just really want to knock their heads together. You see I lulled myself into a false sense of security, Sam's fine at work and Dean is doing well at the education centre and here. In fact, he's seemed more like Dean than at any point since the accident but then put the two of them together and you create some sort of firework or bomb that sits there sparking for days before suddenly exploding. To be fair, this one has been on the cards since I helped Dean start studying and encouraged him to make his own decision, which ended up with him deciding not to tell Sam even now four weeks in. It wasn't quite the decision I had in mind for him to make admittedly. 

Dean has been pushing himself. He's still doing everything round the house, he does a couple of hours work for me. I won't let him do anything too strenuous yet; I know his chest hasn't healed properly. Dean has written an apology to Missouri but is adamant that he won't speak to her directly until she guarantees she won't read him. In the meantime, the openness of the wound on his chest continues to heal but the pain doesn't go. It's adding to his weariness. He worked late last night to finish an assignment for today and when I brought him back it was all he could do to stay awake. We had lunch and he gave in and went to bed. He slept until Sam came back, at which point he got up and started to make something to eat and that is where the argument started. 

Sam in his wisdom had decided that Dean had picked today to be worn out deliberately, that he had elected not to have food prepared before Sam got home with some sort of malicious intent. His problem is that he is due to meet Rosie again to go and see a movie. They've been out a few times since Dean first suggested it. Instead of calling her and changing the arrangements or on this one occasion making do with a sandwich or something quick, Sam decides to lay into Dean for laziness. 

Dean has apologised, more profusely than the situation warrants. He has almost finished cooking but Sam's criticisms haven't stopped. When he had to sort his own clothes from the clean laundry pile he started again and my breaking point was reached. I presume Dean' s to be long past as he has stopped apologising and is working, grimly silent. 

"Dean?" He looks over to me and shakes his head in denial. He serves the food and the three of us sit in silence at the table. 

"Sam. I am sorry. I was tired and I went for a bit of a lie down. I really didn't realise what the time was. I'm sorry." 

"Sure, Dean. It's not like you do anything all day. You know, Bobby and I both work, all you have to do is a few bits around the house. Maybe it's time you mad a bit more effort around here." 

"Sam, I'm sorry. You're right." 

"Dean! No! Sam, stop it! You don't know what you're talking about." I'm angry at them both now, Sam for his refusal to see even without the studying how much Dean does, round the house and for me, Dean for sitting back and letting Sam criticise. There is too much of John Winchester's influence showing on their characters. 

"Bobby, you're letting him give up. He needs to make an effort or he's not going to get any better. If he can turn down help from Missouri, the least he can do is a few jobs around the house. Jobs he was doing weeks ago with less problem." Sam sounds completely unforgiving. 

"Sam, it won't happen again, okay. I was... I fell asleep, okay. I won't let it happen again." I just wish that Dean would stand up for himself against Sam. I know he can't against his father but since the accident he has increasingly allowed Sam to take on that role. He'd always led when it came to hunting and out of the game, he sits back and follows Sam's wishes. 

"Whatever." 

"Dean's done plenty, Sam. Just knock it off. It wouldn't do you any harm to do something round the house now and again, instead of just expecting it to be done by Dean. The same goes for me. We're both just assuming everything will be done and that ain't fair." 

"We're working!" 

"So's he." 

"Course he is." The sarcasm in Sam's voice is pure John at that instant and I'm surprised when that draws a more defiant response from Dean. 

"Sam, stop it. Your problem is with me, not Bobby. I'm sorry I didn't get everything done. I was doing something else. I've been studying I guess and it's not so easy at my age." 

"Studying? Studying what? Tell me you're not researching a hunt." 

"No, I'm not. I'm going to school." 

"School? You? Right. What are you studying, Dean? You never even finished school." 

"I'm finishing school now." Unlike Sam, Dean's answers are calm and quiet. 

"Why? Why now?" 

"Because you said you wanted us to stop hunting. You wanted us to settle down. You wanted us to have proper jobs. You remember that Sam? Do you think I'm a prize catch? What can I do? Who would want to employ me? I'm 27, I've no job, no job history, no qualifications, no address, no references. I can't even prove I can read and write to an end of school standard. They'd laugh me out of any interview." 

"Dean, there's loads of stuff you could do," Sam sounds shocked at Dean's claim, but the thing is they're both right. Dean could do almost anything he put his mind to but he needs to be able to prove it to an employer and to himself. 

"Sam, it doesn't matter what you or I think I can do. I need to be able to prove it to get a job." 

"So you're going to school?"

"Yeah. Now you ought to finish getting ready before you're late." 

"I'll call Rosie, we need to finish this." 

"Sam, we'll talk later. We haven't gone through all this for you to not get there." 

"You're not getting out of this, Dean. We are going to talk." 

"I know. Later right? Now shift your ass and let Bobby and I have some peace." 

And it's over, just like that. They amaze me, all that fire and then quiet support. 

As Sam leaves, Dean goes out to wave him off. The future is looking better right now. It's odd, after years of living alone, content to be so, at this moment I don't want to think about the boys moving on. I've grown to like having the company. I'm happy for them to stay indefinitely, maybe use this as a base even when they're ready to move on. I'd like to offer them the support they should be getting from their father but wonder if they'd accept it. I look at them and think of my son who died with my wife so many years ago. I wonder what he'd have been like at 23, 27 and 30. Would his heart have been as sincere as theirs? Could he have been as selfless as Dean? As intense as Sam? As determined as either?

* * *

**_Author's Note - That is the end of this story, however, there is a sequel coming as soon as I can get it typed up entitled 'Choices'. To all who have stuck with me this far - you probably deserve some sort of medal - accept my thanks in its place._**


End file.
